Yazoo's Reward
by AlexJ69
Summary: Yazoo receives a special reward for overcoming one of Hojo's challenges. Yazoo/Sephiroth. Yaoi. PWP, warnings inside. Giftfic for BMIK


**Title: Yazoo's Reward**

**Disclaimer: Only the scenario is mine. **

**Rating: NC-17**

**Pairing: Yazoo/Sephiroth**

**Warning: Smut, anal, rimjob, oral, dirty-talking Seph, slight oocness but hey it's porn. **

_AN-Written for BMIK, because though I dedicated Black Window to her, I don't think that was the Yaz/Seph she was hoping for. I hope this makes up for it sweetie. _

_AN2-Unbetaed. _

Yazoo's steps were muted as he moved down the sterile, florescent-lit, white corridor, trialing lethargically behind Professor Hojo. His emerald eyes were downcast, hidden behind silver fringe, not seeing his surrounding but knowing them just the same. His nose was slightly wrinkled due to the pungent aroma of ammonia and bleach that permeated the labs. One would think he'd be used to the smell by now, however, deeper in the building, back where his cell was located, the scientists weren't as concerned with sanitation, therefore heavy cleaning products were rarely used.

As the pair walked, Yazoo's mind constantly shifted toward his 'reward'. Though the teen knew the technical meaning of the word; a prize or gift for given for an achievement, the young clone had never been the recipient of one. This was something new and brought forth a feeling of excitement, if not a bit of apprehension. No reward given by Hojo could ever really be a good thing, could it?

The silver-haired, slender boy, who by definition, was a man, quickly replayed the scenario in which he was now to be the beneficiary of said reward. A few scant hours ago, Hojo had come into his cell and explained to Yazoo that he would be fighting in a hand to hand contest against another of the experiments here at the facility; the brute known as Loz. The victor would be rewarded, while the looser would be spending the night in a Mako tank.

Yazoo held no illusions as to which of them was the better fighter. Loz was a powerhouse, pure strength and raw muscle. The taller, skinner man didn't stand a chance. However, Yaz would play up his own abilities. He knew he was quicker, and more agile on his feet. He was also highly trained in martial arts, where as Loz was more of a street brawler. Yaz's plan had been to use quick, hard strikes, then get the hell out of dodge. Surprisingly, especially to himself, his plan had worked, and now here he was on his way to his prize.

He almost felt a pang of compassion for the older, more brutish clone...almost. Compassion was not an emotion any of the clones had a grasp on, and when his stomach tightened at the thought of Loz spending the entire night in a tube filled with the noxious, burning, green liquid known as Mako, Yazoo quickly threw the thought into the deep recesses of his brain. Better Loz than himself, he reasoned.

Hojo finally stopped before a door, and slid his key card though the reader. The door hisses as it was unlocked and the pretty youth had just enough time to read Examination Room 15, engraved in a plaque on the door, before being pulled within.

Inside, the room looked like all the others in the facility, white walls, white tiled floors, bright white lighting, white cabinets, and devoid of thing but an examining table in the center. All instruments, gadgets, and machines would be brought in on a need by need basis. Yazoo secretly theorized that the reason the labs were completely white was because blood showed up better against white, and he knew the sick, twisted scientists loved nothing more than making someone bleed.

Yaz, (a term of endearment that the youngest of the clones had begun calling him), had but stepped over the threshold when the whole world froze. His breath became labored, his heart threatened to burst from his chest, time itself ground to a halt. It couldn't be...

"You have one hour...enjoy your reward," if not for those words spoken by the demented scientist, Yazoo would have believed he was gazing upon a dreamscape summoned forth from the depths of his wildest fantasy.

The boy waited until Hojo had left the room before stepping forward. He was still having trouble grasping what he was seeing. And it wasn't until he was table-side, looking down with bewilderment upon the being strapped to the table, did he start to come to grips with reality.

"Sephiroth!" The name of the almighty general slipped from his tongue by accident.

Yazoo gasped as if he'd just uttered a profanity, a blasphemy. And in his mind, he had. The man pinned down by heavy restrains was his father, his progenitor, the one he'd been modeled after, and to say his name with anything less than sacred devotion was nothing short of a cardinal sin.

The youth folded his fingers, as if in prayer, against his mouth and stared down at the holy one sleeping on the table. He was merely memorizing his progenitor's features at the moment. Yazoo knew that if he looked away for even a second, if he dared blink, the perfect one would dissolve and he would be left with a void for all eternity.

He tried to make the comparisons between them using only his sight, without having to resort to touch. There were so many similarities that Yazoo was startled, though he shouldn't have been. He was, in fact, an altered clone of this man. Their hair; the same flowing molten silver. Their skin; alabaster, seemingly carved from marble. Their height; almost exact. Their bone structure; delicate, masculine yet not afraid to showcase a feminine quality. Their lips...

Yazoo did the unthinkable. He committed the ultimate sacrilege by placing both his hands on either side of Father's face, feeling the cool flesh beneath his palms. He bent down until he could feel Sephiroth's warm breath misting over his lips. He breathed in Father's breath, becoming one with him. And in a single act of betrayal, he brushed his lips against the holy one's The sensation of soft, pale mouth, working against soft pale mouth, shot a tingle through the clone, causing his head to swim in a pleasant warmth. And he found he couldn't pull away. He didn't want to. Let himself be damned, this was his reward.

The silver youth glide his moist slick tongue against Sephiroth's lips, wetting them, and almost plunged his muscle inside when those lips parted for him.

Yazoo's head snapped back, and when his lids opened, he found he was peering down into twin jewels. A sharp intake of of air could be heard from his end, and the boy swallowed hard. Sephiroth, the holy one, the war god, was staring right back at him.

"Sephiroth..." this time the name was a barely heard, reverent whisper.

"Which room is this?" the Shinra SOLDIER inquired as if he hadn't just been kissed.

Yazoo couldn't help the shiver that traveled down his spine when Sephiroth spoke. The man's voice was just so deep, baritone, sensuous and scandalous...beautiful.

It took the youth a moment to reply, "...room 15"

Sephiroth sighed and rolled his eyes. He tugged against his bonds only once before huffing in frustration and glaring at Yazoo. "Fine...hurry up and get this over with. I have things to do." The silver general then willed his body to relax.

Yazoo stood straight, contemplating. He didn't want to 'hurry up and get this over with'. By nature he was a sensual creature, and wanted intimate contact with his partners. (though to date, his only partner had been the youngest clone) He wanted to touch them, feel them, have them shudder as his fingers played down their bodies. He wanted his partner to beg for more. So no, he would not 'hurry up and get this over with.' This was his reward and he had an hour.

Cocking his head lazily to the left, Yaz snorted, "Hn. I think not." It took all his courage and it pained him to refuse Father in this mater, but he would have it his way.

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed and hardened, "excuse me?"

Yazoo stilled him by lowering his mouth again, capturing the soft tissue of the SOLDIER's, and had Yazoo not been holding Sephiroth's face, the war god would have turned away.

Something inside the young clone broke when he conjured up the images of Father being here before, in this same situation, being used as a reward for another. He vowed he wouldn't just use the might general. He would make it good, make it perfect. That vow spilled from his lips as he moved his head, kissing his way down the sacred ones cheek, across his jaw, down to a perfectly sculpted neck, "I promise you..." he hissed breathlessly as he licked at the warming, salty skin, "you will enjoy this."

If Sephiroth protested, he gave no indication. And when Yazoo took the delicate flesh of Father's earlobe between his teeth and started suckling, the general's gasp turned into a low, sultry moan. The clone knew that the warrior had just resigned himself over to the exciting, if unwanted, pleasure Yazoo had just promised.

As Yazoo's skilled lips worked over Father's skin, so to did his fingers. With complete adoration, he unsnapped the sleeves of Sephiroth's hospital gown, freeing the SOLDIER of his covering, allowing his own fingertips unhindered access to caress the man's body.

Nails played lightly down Father's frame, starting at Sephiroth's neck, tracing down his defined chest, glossing over pink nipples, scratching over a six-packed stomach, and finally ending in a soft mound of silver hair. Yazoo made sure not to touch the cock that had sprang to life during his ministrations. Not yet anyway. That would come later. He wanted to draw this out.

Sephiroth's entire physique was a mass of goosebumps and twitching limbs by the time Yazoo's hot, wet tongue began following the same course his fingernails had outlined just moments before. While his moist muscle trailed downward, his hands were moving up, tickling the holy one's sides, bringing him to new heights of arousal.

Yazoo listened closely to Father's breathing, loving the way it became shallow and forced when his tongue came across one little pink nipple. He used his teeth there, drawing the small nub between his lips, causing Sephiroth to whimper and arch his back as best he could while being restrained. Once he decided that this nipple had been lovingly tortured enough, Yazoo licked his way to the other, to pay it the same amount of attention.

The youth finished worshiping his progenitor's chest before he pulled his head away to glance up at the silver-haired beauty. He found Sephiroth's eyes closed, lips parted and features relaxed. That was, until the SOLDIER realized he'd stopped. Sephiroth's lids flew open, only to narrow, brows furrowing.

"You stopped! Why?" the general growled.

Yazoo couldn't contain his light laughter. "You're so beautiful...I only wanted to look at you for a moment."

"You're torturing me." Sephiroth accused.

"Yes..." Yazoo concurred, "but only to extend your enjoyment."

"..." Though the silver general stayed silent, Yazoo could have sworn he'd heard the man snort.

The clone now had a smile on his lips as he sank to his knees beside the table. He was on the left side of his sacred one, the man's dominate side, the same as his own. Reaching over slightly, Yaz let his fingertips fall on Father's naked legs, and his nails fluttered along his inner thighs, and while Sephiroth angled into his touch, Yazoo's mouth descended onto the most terrifying part of Sephiroth's body; his left hand.

Paying homage to the fighters skill, Yazoo allowed each of Father's digits to enter his mouth so he could suck it and roll his tongue across it. He took his time with the hand, sanctifying it as was only proper. He delighted in Sephiroth's indecision at that point. The war god couldn't decide if he wanted to flex his finger and try to pull them from the wet heat, or to push them in further, causing the clone to choke. He finally opted to stay still and allow the boy his way.

Yaz kissed his way up the SOLDIER's arm, across his shoulders, and down the other arm before showering the right hand with affection, all while his fingernails danced along the general's thigh, yet avoiding the hard member that was weeping to be handled. He could now feel Sephiroth's heat radiating from his body, and the general was panting, cooing gibberish.

Then cruelly, striking without warning, in the most wanton act of devotion, Yazoo stood, wrapped his fingers around Sephiroth's pulsating cock, and swallowed the engorged head between his parted lips. Father's whole body tensed, his fists clinched, and a guttural sound issued from the depths of his being.

He fed himself more and more of the thick tool, lapping at the salty liquid seeping from it's hole. He was thrilled by Sephiroth's desire.

The general was bucking his hips with abandon trying to slide the entirety of his shaft into the boy's mouth, yet it was Yazoo who had the power here, and he took the heavy cock down his throat at his own pace, a pace that was driving the warlord to madness.

Yazoo had been so focused on pleasing Father that he ignored his own rod when it stiffened, but now the member was pressing hard against his black sweatpants, begging to be released. Without removing his lips from Sephiroth's cock, Yaz wiggled his way out of his bottoms. Once free, his shaft smacked hard against his stomach, greedy and demanding attention.

Bobbing his head up and down, engulfing and consuming Sephiroth's cock with his powerful jaws, Yazoo started palming his own prick, just enough to relieve some of the tension.

"Dear goddess, just fuck me," Sephiroth wailed when Yazoo had hollowed out his cheeks, sucked the cock down to its base, constricted his throat around it and sucked as if trying to swallow the member whole.

Yazoo came off the white cock with a pop and a wicked grin on his face. "Not yet Father, I'm not done."

Sephiroth moaned, his body shivering in desperation.

Thankfully, Yazoo knew how these tables worked and moving quickly, he brought up the stirrups from their indention, placed the general's feet comfortably in the cold metal, and dropped the table bottom away. Seeing as it was only Sephiroth's upper half that was restricted by the bindings, Yazoo now had free reign of Father's lower half.

Gently the clone pushed the stirrups apart, spreading the SOLDIER's legs, and he fit himself between.

Yaz bent at the waist and glided his tongue down the side of Sephiroth's cock that housed the throbbing blue vein before he opened his mouth to suck in one, then the other of the general's velvety balls. From the corners of his eyes, the boy could see Father's toes curl and he once again reveled in his own power.

The clone eased his head further downward, and gripping Sephiroth's cock with one hand, Yaz used the other to spread a perfectly shaped ass. He was then face to face with the general's most intimate area, a wrinkled pink pucker that looked inviting and delicious.

His tongue snaking out, inch by inch, Yazoo placed just the tip against the tight entrance. Sephiroth gasped. The silver youth then began to draw small rings around the small opening, sending electrifying sensations straight to Father's core. The war god was as delectable as Yaz had imagined, and he flattened his wet muscle against the tiny hole, wanting more of the holy one's essence firing off his taste buds.

Sephiroth was writing again, pressing his hips down hard against Yazoo's tongue, searching for fulfillment. Yaz would oblige very soon.

Hardening his tongue to a point, the clone shimmied his organ inside the vice grip, tasting Sephiroth from the inside. The SOLDIER convulsed and thrust needing more of that hot muscle within him.

The slow, arduous tongue fucking of the greatest war hero ever, had begun.

Yazoo stabbed his tongue in and slowly withdrew it from the general several times, preparing the god for something bigger. Each time the boy would dive in, he would wiggle his point, opening the entrance a little wider.

All the while, Sephiroth was mumbling a string of curses. "Oh fuck...fuckfuckfuck...harder...more...stick that tongue up my ass...fuckme...so...fucking...good."

With a final lick to that little pink rosebud, Yazoo stood, feeling Father was now ready. In one quick motion, the clone stripped himself of the white tank top he'd been wearing the entire time and the material landed atop his discarded pants and the general's gown. He let his gaze fall onto the general's peaceful face. He wanted to claim the holy one, sanctify him in one swift violent motion, but self-restraint won out against the hunger.

"Father?" Yazoo whispered, "Now?"

"Yes! Now!" Sephiroth begged in a tone uncharacteristic for himself.

Yazoo positioned himself so that he was aligned with Sephiroth's glistening opening, and after spitting into his hand and applying the liquid to his painfully throbbing cock, the youth began to enter his progenitor. He went easy at first, his tip pushing through the closed ring, stretching it wide.

Sephiroth clinched his teeth, his face scrunching up. "More," he breathed.

However, Yazoo wasn't so sure he could give more. The feeling of that hot, damp tunnel squeezing his head was almost enough send him over the edge. He had to take a moment to collect his wits before creeping onward.

As more of Yaz's shaft disappeared into Father's crevice, the louder Sephiroth became.

"Stop treating me like a goddam virgin and fuck me like a whore," the general snarled at his lover.

Yazoo, having no idea what a whore was, seemed slightly confused at first, but he could tell by the warlords connotation that he wanted him to increase the speed in which he was entering the man. Giving one hard thrust, Yazoo bottomed out deep inside Sephiroth expanding Father to his limit.

Both men were now covered in a thin layer of sweat, causing them to shimmer under the brutal florescent lighting and the youth couldn't stop himself from gliding his hand across the general's wet skin until he had his cock back in his grasp. He pumped the rod at a quicker rate then what he was moving his pelvis.

The boy then leaned forward, placing his weight on his left side and captured Father's lips again, ceasing the lusty babbling, forcing Sephiroth's mouth to move with his own.

Sephiroth whined into Yaz's throat when the boy started rolling his hips, broadening the soft inner walls, commanding Seph to adjust to his girth. The divine one rotated is one hips, but in his need he found he couldn't match the boy's rhythm and ended up causing the cock tip to miss his sweet spot that he was demanding be reached.

The kiss was broken only to have the SOLDIER nagging to be fucked harder.

Yazoo took a deep breath, throwing his head back, before using Sephiroth's shoulder to brace himself. He pulled his cock halfway from the split war god, then barreled back in, impaling himself fully inside.

"Oh goddess, yes...fuck my ass...fuck me hard...rip me open with your cock...make me feel it... you bastard."

The clone began driving into Father, ramming his tool deep inside the general, giving him what he was begging for. At first his motions were short and stabbing, pressing the deity's swollen button with every jab. The strokes gradually became longer, and more powerful, and with every pattern change of Yazoo's hips, so too changed the pace of the fondling a Sephiroth's cock.

It really didn't take as long as Yazoo had anticipated before Father was cumming. One minute Yazoo was slamming into him, penetrating him without mercy, and the next, Sephiroth's eyes shot wide, his mouth formed an 'O' and his whole body tightened.

"Ahhh...fuckyou....cumming....I'm fucking...fuckme...harder...cum...fuckingbastardfuckmywhoreass...I'm cumming."

And with those words reverberating throughout the room, Sephiroth covered Yazoo's hand and his own stomach in his hot cream.

The applied pressure to Yazoo's driving shaft was all that was the last bit needed for him to tumble down the road of ecstasy. Thrusting wildly, pumping the still cumming general, Yazoo was quiet in his orgasm. It rolled off and out of him in one long wave of bliss. His nails bit down into Father's shoulder, and his breathing quickened and then he flooded Sephiroth with his white, sticky, liquid.

Yazoo gave himself a moment to come down from his orgasm high, before pulling out of the man he loved and worshiped. Looking down at the perfect one, who's eyes were lidded in contentment, Yaz couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. When he'd started, he'd wanted this to be a beautiful, intimate coupling. However, once he'd penetrated Seph, he hadn't been able to keep the slow pace. He hadn't been able to make love to the man. And it broke his heart that he would never get another chance.

The clone was clothed by the time Hojo had come in to announce his hour was up. He hadn't spoken to Father since they'd finished, but that was alright, Sephiroth didn't seem in the mood to talk anyway.

All in all, Yazoo was quite content when he returned to his cell. He now had a memory he could cherish forever.

Hojo returned to Room 15 and released Sephiroth from his bindings.

"Well," the mad scientist croaked while the general was dressing.

"I think you should keep him. If for no other reason than he will be good at seduction."

"Noted. Anything else?"

"I'll write up a full report and have it on your desk by morning." Sephiroth finished with the buckles on his boots. "Oh, and I would like to test the other two parts of 'myself'."

Hojo cackled as Sephiroth headed out the door. "My dear general, that can be arranged."


End file.
